


Settling in the Ruins

by GibbousLunation



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Disorder, F/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-03 05:12:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4088221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GibbousLunation/pseuds/GibbousLunation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Red Death had fallen and all the dust had settled, Berk tries to build a new order from the remains. Hiccup is unprepared. (The one where Hiccup has an anxiety disorder and nobody knows how to deal with it, including Hiccup himself)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hiccup had hated the first few months of attention when he was in dragon training, he remembered, when people started getting the idea that he was good at the whole slaying business.  At first it was a few interested people, then the rest of his peers and a crowd, and then suddenly half the village. There were too many eyes on him, too many expectations, it was suffocating and he always had to get away, get out as fast as he could with as little noise as possible. The bearable times arose few and far between, when one person asked him a question kindly and left soon after, or simply when he and Toothless were in the Hidden Valley alone. It was the only times he felt he could breathe.

It was so much worse now.

The expectations of acquaintances were crushing, pressing in and around his skull and punching out of his lungs. The expectations, the hopes and the dreams, of his Father, was a death sentence.

The gleam in Stoic’s eyes, the pats on the back, the hearty chuckle and fond recollections in front of crowds; it was so much, far too much. It felt to him like a thousand pounds crushing every nerve and muscle in him, like the walls were growing edges and crooks and the doorframes were shrinking around him even as he squeezed through and everything tinged grey on the edges because he couldn’t get enough air.

Hiccup wasn’t used to people expecting him to be, well, good. At anything. He wasn’t used to people demanding things from him beyond “stay out of sight” or “get out of the way”. No, these people wanted his help specifically. They wanted him. They wanted to know things and talk to him and they wanted him around. They wanted him to give speeches, and invent saddles and solutions and for him to come for dinner or hang out or talk about new dragon tricks. They wanted to know him, the brave Hiccup Haddock son of Stoic, the future leader of Berk. However, nobody wanted to know about Hiccup, the kid who liked inventing and quiet and got nervous in front of large crowds.

He’d never signed up for all of this attention, he didn’t ask for it. Craved it maybe, like a starving Terrible Terror, but now that he’d had the lions share, he was sick. Violently. Too much too soon, it was as if someone had started rocking the boat underneath him without warning and he’d tipped over right at the first sign of trouble. Going under.

It was supposed to be a simple meeting, the village elders gathered to speak about housing for dragons. He’d rehearsed, he’d practiced for long hours in front of his father and Astrid and Toothless, what to say, how he could help, what his plans were for the dragon cave. But now, in the center of attention, the words he’d written down seemed to blend together, tie up in knots and float right off the page and shrivel up on his tongue. Toothless wasn’t allowed in, Astrid neither, and his father was seated too far away and this really shouldn’t be a problem he should have this under control but he could feel himself spiraling away regardless. Just a simple speech, Hiccup. Simply words, just plans. All you have to do is say what you think and let them handle the rest. Then you can go flying for hours up in the cold air and fix yourself up like you always do, patch up your wounds with ice and fire and prepare again for the next day.

Just. Speak. For Odin’s sake.

Stoic coughed uncomfortably, something a little like concern and a lot like disappointment clouding his eyes as Hiccup blankly stared in his father’s direction. He was screwing it up and he knew it, but his mouth was so unbearably dry and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Air couldn’t squeeze through the unbearable tightness in his chest and he was sinking.

A lady in the front row, Haddie the Horrible, she’d brought him stew three days ago and squeezed his cheeks, furrowed her brows at him. He could see the wrinkles in her wizened skin crinkle as her eyebrows drew tightly together; she was mouthing something at him. “Go on, boy.” Get on with it Hiccup you’re letting everyone down. Go on, boy.

Go on. Speak.

He felt like he was greying out, like he was in a cage prepping for the slaughterhouse. Go on, boy.

And suddenly, he was running. Bursting through the Great Hall doors with a stumble and fighting his way across the courtyard in a blind daze. No air, no lungs, his vision was greying out and his legs were faltering but he had to get out. A scaly head pushed insistently under his arm, bounding along side his awkward gait and lending support. Toothless churred with a rising note of concern, but it sounded a million miles away. He couldn’t hear much over his pounding heart, everything had a tinny quality to it and it made his skin crawl worse than before.

There were too many eyes on him, worse now that he was running through the market. Each one seemed to pin him down, trip up his good foot and stick to the bearings on his mechanical one. Need to get out, need to get away, need to-

Her bewildered expression upon seeing him burst around a corner, shaky and panic stricken quickly faded into something understanding, something solid. If nothing else, Hiccup would thank the gods endlessly for Astrid Hofferson. She was speaking to him, arms raised with palms out- trying to calm him, tame the frightened woodland creatures stampeding madly in his brain. Hiccup couldn’t hear her, couldn’t hear anything, someone was breathing too loud. She pursed her lips and grabbed his arm, pulling Hiccup and by extension Toothless into the cover of the woods, just as concerned townspeople began to gather behind him. Toothless was pushing insistently against his arm, rumbling steadily and staring up at him with sad eyes. The loud breathing had gained a squeaky, high pitched quality. There was something warm trailing across his cheeks. He couldn’t catch a breath, what was wrong with him, what was wrong with him, what was wrong with…

Astrid’s fingers came to cup his chin.

“Breathe, Hiccup.”

 

_He remembered a time when he was small, well, smaller. Stoic had been trying-and failing- to teach him how to wield an axe, but Hiccup’s arms were too scrawny and his upper body mass was too light and it ended up an awful lot with him face first in the dirt. He’d gotten frustrated, and then plain angry, and then a strange mix of panic and anger when he realized that the other kids his age had already learned the basics of axes and had moved on to bigger and better things. And once again, he was three steps behind. Hefting the small sized axe one last time, he’d managed to work through the first defensive position just with pure stubbornness before over balancing and stumbling directly on to his tailbone in the dirt. Stoic had given him his now trademark disappointed sigh and Hiccup couldn’t stand it. He’d started hyperventilating, furious at himself, at the world. Disgusted with his own inability to preform level one Viking tasks._

_Why couldn’t he just do one thing right? Why couldn’t people understand he just wanted to fit in? Why did the gods choose to hate him so furiously? His mind raced at dizzying speeds and he could feel his chest heaving and he just wanted to go home, just give up on himself like everyone else had on him._

_Then there was a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Stoic smiling at him. “Easy now, Hiccup. You’ve only just had your first day of trainin’. Things’ll look up.” Hiccup’s shuddering breaths slowed, in awe and confusion as his father crouched before him with gleaming eyes. “Did I ever tell you about how I was a late bloomer?” Hiccup shook his head wordlessly._

_Stoic chuckled, ruffling his sons hair gently. “Oh yes, your father, the great Stoic the Vast most fearsome Viking on Berk? I was but a scrawny wee lil twig for years. Always a step behind the rest of my age. Strugglin’ to keep up.” Stoic turned to look at the evening horizon, thoughtfully in a way Hiccup had never seen. “Odin knows how hard I tried, wanting nothing more than the glory and the kinsmanship my other classmates held. Sometimes, the gods can’t make things easy on everyone. Sometimes there needs to be a bit of challenge, a bit of fire, so you can come out shining and glorious afterwards.”_

_Hiccup was quiet for a moment, his breathing more calm. “Do you- do you think I will? I can be like you?” he all but whispered, not wanting to break the magic of the moment._

_Stoic turned his ember bright eyes on him, his red hair wild and flame filled in the dying light. “My boy, I think you’re destined to be the best of all of us.”_

 

Of course, it had taken years, and Stoic had lost faith himself; forgetting the soft spoken words in favour of the aching disappointment, the anger and bitterness. But they’d found their way back, mended the bridges to be stronger than ever before. He’d had his fire and his toil and risen through it all, glorious as Stoic once said. But he was wrong all the same.

Hiccup was anything but glorious. He was fragile and weak and a crying mess. And it was getting worse.

Astrid’s searching gaze brought him back to himself, to the sounds of his hitching breaths and heaving shoulders. The panic had left a hole in his chest, one that was quickly filling with self-disgust and a desire to crawl under a rock and stop existing as himself entirely. He couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t bear the smooth texture of Toothless’ head under his hand. Couldn’t bear the weight of his own existence.

“What’s going on in that big brain of yours? Huh?” Astrid muttered, her tone playful but laced with a deep seated worry. It was almost strange how close they’d become, when he thought of how many years she’d spent ignoring his presence entirely. She was Hiccup’s fixed point in many ways now, when all things got crazy, Astrid would still be Astrid. Angry and stubborn and wonderful.

“The meeting didn’t go well I take it?” She pushed a wayward hair out of his eyes, carefully like he’d be set off by any abrupt movements. He closed his eyes, letting a deep breath roll through him, calm down, calm down, calm down.

 “I couldn’t….” Hiccup’s voice was almost imperceptible, and he didn’t seem to have the strength to talk any louder. Words were difficult in the best of times, but when fear was laced through them they seemed to taunt him by hanging just out of reach, floating above his head and making everything worse. Astrid always understood anyways.

She shushed him, rubbing her thumb across his cheek and holding his wrist. It was a comforting thing he supposed, something about warmth and pressure points or maybe just a motherly trait passed down in her family- Astrid was never gentle, never quiet, unless it was with him. It was…nice. It also caused him to writhe inside with guilt and loathing, that he needed this baby treatment, that he wanted it, that he was too fragile to handle it alone.

“Hiccup, it’s okay.” She tried, which irked the pit of self-depreciating darkness brewing inside of him. It wasn’t okay, it wasn’t alright in the slightest. He was meant to be a leader, destined to be glorious and awesome like his father, but instead he-

Instead he was sitting in the woods on a tree stump crying and worrying his girlfriend and his best friend over nothing. Over a council meeting that he’d called to order. Over a stupid speech he’d written himself. He was pathetic and it was anything but fine.

The calming circles Astrid had been tracing with her thumb froze, and Hiccup belatedly realized he’d been talking, not just angrily thinking to himself. Toothless rumbled disgruntledly and paced around the two of them snorting. Oops.

“Do you really think that? Gods, Hiccup….” She moved to crouch in front of him, catching his downturned gaze and locking eyes. He honestly couldn’t say he had the self-awareness to be apologetic, to ease her worries, it all felt too shallow and cruel. He shrugged half-heartedly.

“I keep freaking out, they- I was invited to speak, I practiced and you know how much I rehearsed, I had it all right up here,” he gestured vaguely to his head, but it lacked his usual energy entirely. “I knew what to do and I still couldn’t. I freaked.”

“Honestly? I would too.” Hiccup blinked. “Seriously. Here you are in front of Berks most esteemed members, the people everyone looks up to, the ones that you need to impress the most of anyone, and you’re expected to give them advice on how to change basically everything. They’re all staring at you, all waiting for you to give this perfect solution to all of the chaos that you’ve brought, and expecting that you don’t let them down.” He winced, and she barrelled on.

“You went from the town goofball to the town’s greatest hero and revolutionary thinker in the span of a few months. I’d be pretty freaked out too.”

Astrid had an interesting way of getting to the point, usually involving a lot of backhanded compliments and blunt assessments of a persons winning or failing qualities. But she was never off the mark or dishonest.

Oddly, this wasn’t reassuring.

Astrid sighed. “Look, nobody expects that you excel at this right away. Leading is hard. You’re still really far away from being qualified to become Berks next Cheiftan, and that’s okay. I know I can speak for pretty much all of us that we really messed up in ignoring what you had to say for so many years, but we’re listening now. That’s all we want from you. To let us listen.”

He must have looked completely bewildered at this statement because Astrid did her funny half smile smirk and punched him lightly in the shoulder, as is her typical way of handling serious emotions. It was nice to have a step back towards normal territory for a moment, he felt a little more solid.

“I don’t know if I can, Astrid. Talk, I mean. What if I….mess up? Suggest something that doesn’t work?” The knowledge that he could be responsible for destroying the village, for ruining families or live stock or hurting Toothless, it was horrible. The worst pressure he could conceive, the kind that woke him up screaming with night fevers and a horrible clamminess in his bones. He was used to failure, but only when it hurt himself.

Astrid raised an eyebrow at him. “Since when does Hiccup Haddock back down from a challenge? Isn’t this the same guy who befriended a Night Fury? A wounded Night Fury? All on his own?” At the mention of his name, Toothless chuffed and sidled up closer to Hiccup, pressing his nose once again firmly under his arm, as if to reassure them both of his own greatness as well as Hiccup’s. _I chose him too you know, and there was a darned good reason_ , Toothless peered at them both before dramatically plopping his large head on Hiccup’s lap.

Hiccup snorted in spite of himself. Astrid grinned in response, and his heart did that backflip kind of thing that made his face heat up. “If anything goes wrong, Hic? You have us. And your dad, and Fishlegs and the Twins and Snotlout. Hel, you have all of Berk rooting for you. It’s not you versus the world anymore. We’re a team aren’t we? What’s there to worry about?” Astrid said earnestly.

It was hard to disagree with her when her eyes twinkled, it made him think of flying and falling all at the same time. And he supposed that he’d conquered both those fears also. He swallowed a rising lump in his throat, trying to work through the mess of emotions. She wasn’t wrong, but yet again he felt himself getting frustrated.

“I don’t think this is going to go away. This… panicking thing. It’s not that simple.” He was going to be different forever, never entirely belonging. Hiccup the Dragon Rider and the Eternally Internally Screaming Panicky One. Some hero he was. This sucked.

“I think you’re just over thinking it,” She kissed him on the cheek again. Toothless chirped in agreement.

He tried to smile at her, managing a wavering half grimace that felt out of place and wrong. Hiccup was calm now, his heart no longer racing out of his rib cage, but he still felt disjointed. Like someone had replaced his muscles and brain and joints with cotton and cloth and nothing felt completely there. He thought he probably needed a nap, or a large boulder to coincidentally fall on top of him so he didn’t have to face his father or the council again.  He knew Astrid meant nothing bad, but her reassurances left him feeling scratched out and empty.

This panic thing, it had always been a part of him, he knew that. It used to be quieter, he could bottle it up like a shiver or a bad thought and hide it. With the stress and the pressure and the responsibilities its as if something snapped in him; he couldn’t push it off anymore it all seemed just ready to bubble over constantly. He was always afraid, even of things he shouldn’t be. People walking too close from behind, sudden loud noises, vague answers, socializing, it all took something from him.

And he was scared he wasn’t going to get it back ever again.

Astrid’s hand tightened on his arm and he glanced up at her. “I’m okay. Not freaking out, anyway.” He tried, and felt proud of himself for keeping a level tone. He felt like he was breaking apart and drifting away, like this was the beginning of a terrible end, like he was standing on a cliff face on barely solid ground. Astrid was trying, he knew she was, and it was helping to know people cared but he just didn’t want the spotlight. He didn’t want the concern or the pity or the hushed tones he knew were destined to follow once the town caught word of his increasingly common freak outs.

He knew he was getting worse, he’d just never expected it would get this bad- not to the point of bolting out in front of a room of people and making a huge scene in front of everyone. Maybe it wasn’t too late to just take Astrid and Toothless and leave forever. He bit off a sigh.

 

“Hiccup!”

And that would be his father’s bellowing voice booming through the silence. Great.

Astrid gave him an apologetic look before moving to intercept Stoic before he brought too much attention to their hide out. He dropped his head into his hands, as Toothless made a plaintiff rumble and gently headbutted his side.

“I don’t know, bud.” he wasn’t sure if he was muttering to Toothless or himself. “Maybe I just….wasn’t cut out for this.” All he’d ever wanted was the sun, but now, when he had it, he just wanted to hide in the shadows again. It burnt too much and shone too brightly and he wasn’t prepared, but he’d grown in spite of himself and couldn’t pull himself small enough to fit in the darkness he’d left behind.

Some hero. He felt a wave of self-disgust roll over him even as the crunch of earth and quiet voices drew closer.

Hiccup lifted his head; his hands shook, even as he curled them into white boned fists and left red crescent indents on his palms

 

 


	2. Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It started in the morning, with a heaving chest and wide eyes and scrabbling fingers. He burst awake, from complete still and peace to a sudden flurry of noise and gasps and utter panic. Stoic, hearing the clatter from downstairs, charged into the room ready for an ambush or an assassin, and met both of those things but in the form of a waging battle between breaths and behind eyes.
> 
> Hiccup was crashing, burning, and they both knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to add another chapter after all- I felt too bad leaving Hiccup on the edge like that I guess.  
> I should add that all the processes and things Hiccup goes through are only based on personal experience, not a professional standpoint, so I apologize if there are inaccuracies!

Something was wrong with Hiccup Haddock.

It was a hushed whisper shared between craftsmen in the late hours of a long work night, a careful glance over the shoulder of a baker to the merchant, a mumbled word in a dimly lit household early in the morning before the sun itself woke. The townspeople wouldn’t dare speak of it in the broad daylight, never more than a hushed voice and a quick nod. 

As a community of Vikings, Berkians were afraid of very little. They took on fire and death on a daily basis, almost looking forward to it. An occupational hazard some might say. No Viking feared death or pain or danger, they even laughed at the idea- told stories of it around campfires to wide eyed younglings, made holidays of it, drank to it on a crowded event night. 

There was one thing they did fear, and it was wrapped so tightly around the core of every citizen of Berk, no one spoke of it, let alone break it. Honour was a concept idolized by many, placed so high up on a shelf it was hardly even visible, but it was a prized belonging nonetheless. No one dared even shift the balance, nor would they want to. 

They were a community, they stuck together when it counted. Vikings were brutal and callous and rude and terribly unhygienic, but they valued respect and loyalty, and their stubbornness went outmatched by none. Once they had set their collective minds on something, no force in the world could change it. 

Stoic was a figurehead of this very concept; he was unmoveable, unbreakable, and undefeatable. He was also endlessly loyal to his people, endlessly brave, and endlessly honourable. He had his faults- the same stubbornness that coursed through his veins was the same in every one of them- but he was undeniably magnificent. And the people trusted his judgement and respected him above all else. 

When his son, Hiccup, had come into the world, he’d been the stuff of legend also. The son of the greatest dragon slayer Berk had ever known, offspring of Stoic the Vast and Valhalla, both immeasurably strong and witty respectively. Hiccup was born into expectations, that of victory and power and the same magnificence that shone in his fathers eyes. 

It was only natural that he should fall through.

Scrawny and stick thin, awkward and uncoordinated, Hiccup became something of a burden. Stoic had decreed his son was to be protected, the heir of the bloodline and all, and so they did their best. The darned kid didn’t ever want to stay put, desperate almost to stir up trouble in some way or form. He was infamy incarnate, but it wasn’t really his fault. The townspeople had an aggression towards him simply because he wasn’t the ideal they’d always held of Stoic- he was reality where Stoic was godly, and the differences allowed the townspeople to see chinks in their cheiftans armour that hadn’t existed before. His existence was a foil to Stoic, to all of them, and it made them deeply unsettled. It wasn’t as if they hated him though, Berk protects its own. They would have just preferred if he hadn’t been born weak and small and utterly useless. Which was different, they were sure it was somehow. 

When the son of Stoic had come out of nowhere, caught them all off guard with his skills and prowess in the dragon ring, it was like the sun finally breaking through the clouds. There he was, they thought, Stoic the Vast’s bloodline. The future cheiftan of Berk. 

And he hadn’t let them down. He’d used tactics that were startlingly different, outside the box where they’d always been careful to stay within. A little ingenuity and a lot of making things up as he went along, they supposed, but it worked. Stoic had been on board and so they trusted in him, put their stock in his different kind of strength and jumped head first.  
Hiccup was a legend in his own right, and they were proud. 

But something was wrong with Hiccup Haddock, something they couldn’t fix or wish away or wait out. Something in the way he clenched his fists and paced and shook slightly and always looked so desperately trapped. 

There were rumors, at first, of diseases, of late blooming injuries, of dragons infecting his essence somehow making him wild and frantic. People feared for themselves, for the future of Berk, for this new hierarchy of dragons and citizens sharing living spaces. But then Stoic had stepped onto the Great Hall platform one day, looking worried, looking shaken, but with a strange glitter behind his dark eyes, and all at once the rumors stopped.

Stoic never displayed emotions, not ones that showed weakness or flaws. Not ones that let the wrinkles on his cheeks and below his eyes crease the years into his grim demeanor. 

And something was terribly, terribly wrong with Hiccup. 

The village collectively held it's breath, and waited for the shoe to drop.

 

___

 

Months blurred together, and yet remained unbearably long and separate events. Everyone pulled at him from every angle, he found it nearly impossible to find a moment of reprieve most days let alone enough time to gather his strength and thoughts. Stoic, his loving but stubborn filled father, had tried his best in his own way to ease the burden- strictly stating all typical chieftan duties were to remain solely his own. Of course this did nothing at all to slow down the throngs of citizens who watched his every move. 

Having a hundred pairs of eyes on him at all times was daunting at the least, panic and hysteria inducing on bad days. 

Bad days that were becoming more and more frequent the more he strung himself out, bad days that were beginning to outnumber the good ones, bad days that made his skin crawl and his eyes unfocus and every noise seem like too much. 

But according to Stoic, it was all fine. Just stress of the job, newbie jitters. The ‘doting father’ equivalent of walk it off, in a way. Hiccup wished he could be that strong, but everything weighed and dug in too much no matter how hard he tried to face each new challenge head on. 

People had died at the dragon nest, because he hadn’t been fast enough. Dragons had died because he hadn’t been smart enough. 

He needed to be better. The people deserved that much, they just deserved better than him. 

Sleep had been almost completely lost to him; filled with dreams of failure and disappointment and never ending regrets too real to simply blink away. His appetite had shrunken, nauseous iron grasp on his stomach all but rejected everything he ate outright. Everything seemed….loud and off kilter. He couldn’t get his bearings. 

He chewed his fingers and paced his rooms and never sat still not even once but nothing got easier. Hiccup felt constantly tired, on edge, fraying at the seams; he hated how irritable he’d become, how he was pushing everyone away including Toothless. It was better than saying something he’d regret, he told himself. And months wore on. 

It all had to come crashing to a crescendo at some point, either the stress or Hiccup had to break. Unfortunately, Hiccup was a much easier target. 

It started in the morning, with a heaving chest and wide eyes and scrabbling fingers. He burst awake, from complete still and peace to a sudden flurry of noise and gasps and utter panic. Stoic, hearing the clatter from downstairs, charged into the room ready for an ambush or an assassin, and met both of those things but in the form of a waging battle between breaths and behind eyes. Emotions were not by any means Stoics forte, let alone Hiccup’s. He tried though. 

He held his sons hand, gently as possible, and told him about the battle he’d fought in his younger days, before becoming chief. Dragons and fire and a little more sarcasm than Stoic would usually like to admit, he painted the picture of his bravest hours as best as he could, hoping the sound of his voice could drag Hiccup back to him. 

“You should have seen it, son. Blazing flames like nothing I’d ever seen before, lapping at me from just barely out of reach. I nearly lost my eyebrows that day I swear it.”

“Then, in a moment of bravery, or idiocy, I threw my spear across the plains and hoped. I’d put my weight back, all the way into the ground, and I’d thrown with everything in me, but Odin only knew if it would be enough.  
The elders were displeased with my showboating, as they called it. The damage was a bit over the top, to be true. However, the beast that had plagued us for years had been defeated, chased off forever as we hoped. To this day I have yet to see it’s mug around. I think I’d like to tame it myself if it does show up.”

Oddly enough, it had worked after a while. Hiccup had tried to measure his breaths with the staccato drum of his fathers words, tried to grasp onto realities knife edge to pull himself over, to gain his footing for the moment. It felt like running a marathon, and he shook somewhere deeper than his bones. 

He’d decided to take a sick day, Stoic agreed whole heartedly, not looking forward to another repeat of ice cold dread so early in the day.  
Vikings almost never took sick days, even with limbs hacked off and bloody bandages still trailing along, there was work to be done. Staying at home willingly, was an admittance of weakness. It was a public announcement. Hiccup and Stoic both feared what would come of it, but Hiccup deserved a moment of clarity, and Stoic was more deeply afraid for his son than anything. He’d never witnessed a battle such as this, one where no amount of strength or courage would help. 

If Stoic prayed harder to the gods that night, prayed longer that things would turn around for their broken makeshift family, the gods themselves only knew. 

When one sick day turned into two, Stoic pretended not to worry. Hiccup would be right as rain tomorrow, the more he rested the more like himself he’d be. 

Hiccup was crashing and burning, and both of them knew it. If it wasn’t obvious by Hiccup’s own withdrawn attitude, his quiet demeanor, then it was plain to see in the way Toothless merely shuffled into the room and curled up beside his friends bedside. Dragons could sense pain, so the legends went. It stood to reason they could sense emotional pain as well.  
Astrid came by to see him on the third day, with a stack of parchment and a piece of whittled charcoal.

“Sorry it took me so long to get here,” she’d carded her hands through his hair, giving him a half smile that cracked like twigs under the worry in her eyes. “Things are a little busy out there, and I want you to have your moment of peace, just don’t take too long alright? We’ll all miss you too much.”

The sentiment should have warmed him, but it fell flat. He huddled his knees up closer to his chest, and leaned back on his headboard. “It’s getting worse, Astrid. Why is it getting worse?” If Astrid heard the broken waver to his voice, she said nothing, her exhale hitched slightly but her face stayed carefully still. 

“I don’t know, Hiccup.”

Toothless whined morosely from the foot of the bed, and Hiccup buried his face in his knees. Even in the quiet of his room with his two best friends and an aura of support, he felt like he was shaking apart. Like the air itself was a vice and he wasn’t strong enough to break free. Every day he shirked his duties it got stronger, but every day he felt weaker and less able to stand let alone lead. 

“Here,” Astrid pushed the parchment towards him, nudging his arm slightly. “I brought you something. I know you’re probably freaking yourself out, because you and I both know there will be a mountain of stuff to do when you get back at it,” Hiccup winced. “So I thought I would bring little bits of it here, just the easy stuff. A distraction and also productivity, right?”

He warily looked over the list she’d written on the top corner of one of the pages. Diagram of New Dragon Housing Plan, Fire Extinguishing Schematic, Training Regiment (Rough Draft), the titles floated off the page around him. None of them were overly difficult, he acquiesced. Little mind benders, little puzzles to keep his mind off how pathetic he was and more on something useful. Hiccup usually lived for sketches and plans and diagrams, he had ideas for each of these segments already in the works, fleshing them out would occupy his time nicely for the remainder of the afternoon.  
He swallowed and his throat felt like wool. 

The negative thoughts picked at him, about how he could still screw up something this simple, that Astrid was babying him because she saw him with only pity, that the whole community was looking down at him with shame. 

He wanted to be grateful for Astrid’s thoughtfulness. She’d done her best to ease him out of his mind and it was a kind, caring idea. Yet, he felt a slight wave of bitterness in the face of her eager, hopeful expression. She was just giving him more ways to fail himself, to fail everyone. She was refusing to see that he could no longer be in charge, that he wasn’t good enough, and thereby extending his purgatorial limbo. 

“You don’t have to work on all of them, I talked to your father and he can help with the saddle stuff, and Fishlegs has some ideas for the training that might actually be useful. Just, take it one step at a time, we can handle the rest.” Astrid squeezed his hand, a confidence in her voice that took Hiccup aback for a moment. 

“I…” Thank you, Astrid. I don’t believe in myself, but you’re making me want to. “Toothless…” he gestured vaguely towards the end of his bed, green eyes appearing over the foot at the mention of his name. 

“I can take him out flying until you’re feeling up to it. I know the basics. Cheat sheet, remember?” She poked him gently, and he choked out a surprised laugh. “You really should go flying soon though, I know how much you love it.” She said in a more somber tone. 

Hiccup found himself unable to speak, and nodded half-heartedly without making eye contact. He felt the tell tale heat on his neck, and the burning behind his eyes. He bit his lip, refusing to cry in front of this wonderfully strong girl. Astrid really had thought of everything, he felt awash with shame for thinking she’d abandon him to a unbearable workload or would want to see him fail. Their friendship was fairly new, yes, but he’d known Astrid for years. When you were in her good books she was the most loyal friend one could have, it was one of the main reasons why he’d admired her so much. 

To have that loyalty turned onto him, it was too much. His heart swelled and constricted, and he shuddered out a small breath. 

“Thank you,” he forced out, valiantly attempting to keep his voice from cracking. Her hand slipped out of his, he heard the stool push back from the bed as she stood. 

“It’s what friends do, Hiccup.” She said softly, before a warm pair of lips pushed gently against his forehead. He started, and blinked up at her.

“That’s for being the bravest guy I know,” she whispered. “You are stronger than you give yourself credit for. It’s okay to need help, we’re here for you now.”

Hiccup wasn’t sure what to make of the spark in her eye, or the blush high on her cheeks. He felt overwhelmed, confused and exhausted. A storm in his gut settled slightly, as she trailed out of the room with the promise of returning the next day. Maybe he’d have the strength tomorrow to get out of bed. Maybe he could take Toothless flying, maybe he could finish the schematics and give the speeches everyone expected of him. 

Maybe tomorrow he’d feel less…wrong.

He closed his eyes and exhaled. 

He thought about the faces lined with expectations, staring with wide eyes and wider mouths, hopes nailed to him like daggers. He thought of mountains and unbearable weights and chains tying him to the ground, to the mark of ash that would inevitably grace his forehead like a brand. He thought of swirling dark depths and a survival instinct to leave, to get out.  
Then, he thought of Astrid’s smile, of the gleam of his father’s eye and the affectionate hair ruffles, of the excited and pleased greetings of his rag tag group of friends, now. Friends and acceptance, approval even, Hiccup could hardly believe it. 

He thought of flying. The freedom and peace and trust in Toothless. The lack of weights and shaking and buzzing under his skin and around his heart. Up there everything made sense, it was just mechanics and wind currents and icy fingers trailing through his hair with a mothers touch. There were no expectations, simply because he was doing what had never been done, he was creating his own guidelines and learning how to push against them. Just Toothless, their bond, and a trust in himself.

He puffed up his chest, Toothless appearing by his side as if he’d read his thoughts and pushing gently under his arm. 

Maybe he could try just this, just once.

Hiccup pushed himself up with his other arm, heaving a shaky breath and giving Toothless a shakier smile. Toothless chirped lightly, an encouragement. Just once, Hiccup, just with me. Like old times. 

 

Things weren't better, he still felt like he was spinning and pulling apart, but sitting still was killing him. Or speeding up the process anyways. He figured he was sick, some sort of disease. He was going mad, surely. The best medicine, as Stoic always told him, was something to take the mind off it, and lots of meat. 

Hiccup didn't believe his dad's health strategies so much as he believed Stoic must have been born as a demi god. 

But he could do this, try. Something for just himself and no one else. 

His brain felt fuzzy, unused, and his legs nearly buckled under the sudden strain, but Hiccup felt a smile on his face that wasn’t forced, something forgotten nearly, and if his steps were slow and hesitant Toothless didn’t judge. He paused for a moment by the door, hand on the frame like drawing strength before a war, choking slightly on a breath, but Toothless didn’t push and the world titled onwards, and Hiccup felt himself tilt along with it.

___

It had been days since anyone had seen the son of Stoic, and they feared the worst. Whispers of madness, of dead eyes and shakes, spread like lightning through the frightened villagers. Prayers soon followed after, to Odin, to Thor, to anyone listening.

None dared to speak too loud, afraid of turning the tides further against them or inciting Stoic's wrath. Family matters were private matters, but the Chief's matters hurt them all. 

Some remembered when Val had left them, how it had shook them all despite their distaste for her radical viewpoints and strange personality. They'd nearly lost their leader then, to the mead and the tears and the grey waves below. Only Gobber and Stoic's small son, just barely a year old, kept him grounded.

They feared what would come about if Stoic lost one more anchor. 

Viking's didn't take breaks, not unless they were near death. Stubborness issues and all. 

They didn't like the defeated look to Hiccup's eyes when they last saw him, the bland aura wrapped around him like a death sentence. They didn't like the crescents under his eyes, the white hairs appearing in Stoic's beard. 

For all Hiccup had been before, they needed him now, and they worried. No one knew what the sheen of cold sweat meant, what the quaking limbs or foggy expression could be symptoms of. A plague? Maybe.

So when the evening air bled around the village, and the blank slate of the moon rose high in the sky, the people of Berk wished and hoped and prayed for a better tomorrow. 

Just for him, for Hiccup's sake. Just one more tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> This is intended to be a short little story with multiple perspectives and stuff- hopefully I actually get around to that, but this can also stand on its own until then I suppose! Also I kinda just wrote this up today and posted it so if you have any critiques or anything feel free to help me out!


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